


i'll close my eyes, then i won't see (the love you don't feel when you're holding me)

by direwolfjon



Series: take this longing [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Complicated Relationships, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Masturbation, Sexual Assault, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-07 10:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20974220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/direwolfjon/pseuds/direwolfjon
Summary: He held out a hand for her. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."She arched an eyebrow as she placed her hand in his own, allowing him to pull her up and bracing her hands on his chest as she bumped into him."Your own bed," he specified before she could get any ideas."It's cold," she complained as she laced their fingers together. When he risked a glance at her, she released the full force of her pouty face on him. "Won't you keep me warm tonight, Jon?""I promise it's warmer than your car," he pointed out. "I'm sure you'll live."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to write some more from the _red pleather skirt_ universe.
> 
> This will be about 8 chapters and will take place over the course of a couple of weeks. I already have a basic idea for a part 3, which would be set at least a couple of years later than this.
> 
> This won't be a particularly happy story (make sure you've read all the tags before proceeding), but I do think it will have its sweet moments.

When Jon opened the door to his apartment, Sansa stepped in and spun around slowly, mouth hanging open in awe as she took in the open space that held his kitchen, living room and dining area. 

"This is where you live?" she asked, raising her eyebrows as she turned back to face him. "How can you afford this?"

"I can't," he answered truthfully, reluctantly adding: "It's my _dad's_."

"I thought you didn't have a dad," she muttered as she ran her fingers over the marble countertop.

"I didn't," he shrugged. "Guess he found out about me, decided to take an interest or something."

"So he gave you an apartment and you just accepted?" She sounded incredulous as she let herself fall down onto a mountain of pillows on one of the sofas.

He'd forgotten how well she knew him. They'd both kept a polite distance growing up, narrowly avoiding each other's circles, but somehow she'd always been there, and it was clear she'd observed him, had taken enough interest to learn things about him.

But that had been the good girl Sansa. He barely knew this woman who was spread out on his sofa, whom he'd fucked up against a wall only an hour ago.

He finally stepped away from the door and walked over to close the distance between them, awkwardly standing at the edge of the sofa as he tried hard not to stare at her face, or the way she was playing with her hair, or the invitation of her slightly parted legs.

"Must be the guilt getting to him," he stated matter-of-factly, looking at his feet. "And it's nice, you know, not having to pay rent."

She only hummed in response, for which he was grateful. He was not in the mood to start explaining this fairly new --and still mostly unwanted on his part-- relationship between him and the man who'd knocked up his mum. 

He held out a hand for her. "Come on. Let's get you to bed."

She arched an eyebrow as she placed her hand in his own, allowing him to pull her up and bracing her hands on his chest as she bumped into him.

"Your own bed," he specified before she could get any ideas.

"It's cold," she complained as she laced their fingers together. When he risked a glance at her, she released the full force of her pouty face on him. "Won't you keep me warm tonight, Jon?"

"I promise it's warmer than your car," he pointed out. "I'm sure you'll live."

That quick fuck in the pub's back alley had been a mistake, but one he could get over. Having her in his arms in his own bed was a completely different matter, and he wasn't about to let that happen. 

***

He woke up with his face buried into a mass of silky red hair and a pert round ass wiggling against his morning erection. 

He sucked in a sharp breath, and she stretched and then curled up again, releasing a deep sigh and pretending she was still asleep. 

He shuffled back, resisting the urge to wrap an arm around her and pull her into his chest again. Her behaviour didn't particularly faze him. He'd been with a couple of women who were bold and direct in expressing what they wanted from him.

He hadn't truly questioned it last night either, too caught up in the haze lust to truly think things through, but now, with her lying next to him after sneaking into his bed early in the morning, he was once again overwhelmed by sadness.

_Who are you? _he wondered. _What happened to you? _He was of half a mind to ask her later, but instinct and experience told him that might be a bad idea.

_What am I going to do with you? _He shook his head and rolled away from her. He got out of bed and put on a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He downed half the bottle of water he'd put on his nighstand before going to bed.

He retrieved the bottle he'd left for Sansa from the guest bedroom and placed it on the nightstand on her side of the bed. After a quick bathroom stop, he brushed his teeth and then headed to the kitchen for coffee.

He pulled a fleece blanket from the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders, stepping out onto the balcony to drink his coffee and smoke his first cigarette. 

Sansa had never been an early riser, so he reckoned he still had some time alone before she would join him. He asked himself again what he was going to do about her. 

_Nothing, _he decided. He'd let her stay as long as she needed, but after that it was best for them to both go their separate ways again.

He wasn't sure what she wanted from him, what game she was playing, but he didn't care to find out. Jon had his own issues, and he wasn't ready to be caught up in any renewed feelings for Sansa Stark he was probably already catching, nor in the trouble he was sure was about to follow if he decided to get involved with her. 

Once he would have done or given anything for her, but he knew that whatever she thought she needed from him, he wouldn't be able to give it to her. He could probably help if it was cash she needed, and he might even be able to pull a few strings to find her a job or a roof over her head, but that's where it had to stop.

He might check up on her now and then, if he had to, just to make sure she was alright. But that had to be the extent of it. He couldn't allow her into his life or his heart. He'd made the same mistakes too often. Whatever Sansa's issues were, he wouldn't be the one who tried to cure her. 

He returned inside to pour himself a second mug of coffee and opened the cupboards to see if he still had any tea left. He couldn't remember what kind Sansa liked, but it didn't matter, as he only found one box with about half a dozen bags of some citrusy herbal mix left. 

He'd forgotten about her tea preferences, but he still remembered how she liked her eggs. By the time she appeared at the table, he had a plate of them ready for her, scrambled but still soft and gooey, a bit of cheese on top and two slices of toast, cut into triangles.

She was wearing one of his hoodies, and possibly nothing else, her feet and endless legs bare. When his eyes found her face again, she offered him a sleepy grin.

_Seven Hells, Snow! _

She pulled out a chair to sit down and he put the plate on the table in front of her. He turned back to get her tea and his coffee and then picked up his own plate, taking the seat opposite her.

He started shovelling eggs onto his toast with his fork. He'd already finished half a slice when he noticed how quiet she was.

He glanced over at her plate. She hadn't touched a bite yet, and she was glaring down at the eggs, her chin wobbling.

"What's wrong?" he asked her. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, leaning away from the table and shrugged angrily.

He put his toast down and chewed longer than necessary before swallowing and asking: "Can I get you anything else?"

"I'm not hungry," she huffed as her stomach grumbled.

"Sure," he muttered, picking up his mug and keeping his eyes on his coffee as he took a slow sip. 

Her chair screeched against the kitchen floor as she pushed herself to her feet, carrying her plate over to the counter.

He turned around to see her shoving it into the trash can, still containing eggs and toast, and even her knife and fork. 

He put his mug down on the table with a little more force than he'd intended. "What the fuck?"

"I hate eggs," she murmured before crossing her arms over her chest to hug herself and stalking away from him.

Jon stared after her, twisting his neck to glower at the trash and then turned his eyes back to where she'd disappeared moments before. The door of his spare room was shut with a loud bang. 

He felt his confusion simmer over into anger and pushed his own plate away, rising to his feet to head out and go for a run to give himself time to cool down before confronting her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eggs incident was inspired by
> 
> [this Tumblr post](https://embraceyouranxiety.tumblr.com/post/145399944757/builttobulk-fitzefitcher-daggerpen)


	2. Chapter 2

Jon toed off his shoes and tossed his phone and keys onto the kitchen table. There was no sign of Sansa, and for a moment he felt as if a fist was closing around his heart. What if she'd left? 

He continued on to the hallway and only stopped when he was standing in front of the door to his spare room. He could hear the soft melody of a moody but poppy indie song he wasn't familiar with coming from inside the room.

He sighed in relief. She must be in there then. That had to be enough for now. 

He still felt tense, his body still taut and uncomfortable after running 5k. Perhaps he should have stayed out longer, but he'd been starting to get annoyed with himself. A voice in the back of his mind suggested he was literally running away from his problems, and he hadn't been able to deny it.

It wasn't just Sansa. Her entering his life again and quickly turning his world upside down again had possibly been the last straw, but it wasn't her fault, not truly. It was his new family, the one he hadn't wanted and had never asked for who'd had him on edge.

Running hadn't been enough, he'd felt like screaming, and deep down, some part of him had also started to worry about Sansa again. That was probably what had urged him to turn around and head back home. 

He stepped under the overhead shower and let the hot water hit him, soaking and soothing him, but bringing him little relief. He pushed his dripping curls back from his face, turning it upward and running a hand through his beard. 

Release was what he needed, he decided as his hand started wandering down. It would ease this tension, and he'd feel better after, more relaxed. He encircled his still soft cock, lightly fingering it to get himself hard.

_Gods, _this was probably a bad idea. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his thoughts from wandering to _her. __Too late. _Just a flash from an unbidden image of her throwing her head back last night, and he was fully erect, fingers wrapped more tightly around his shaft as he stroked himself up and down, squeezing the head. 

He could have her right here if he wanted, pushed up against the shower wall, instead of the rougher and dirtier one from last night. He tried to picture what she'd look like with her hair darker and soaked through, sticking to her neck and tits. Her cheeks would be flushed, and he'd chase droplets of water down her skin with his tongue. 

He groaned as he imagined her nails digging into his shoulder blades, her hot wet cunt tightening around him. "Jon," she gasped. Her voice sounded so close to him, so real.

He felt a hand on his forearm and he flinched, his eyes flying open. She was standing right in front of him, naked and her arm still stretched out to touch him, though he'd pulled away on instinct.

He forced his eyes back up to her face, instead of giving them time to linger on all of the curves and bare skin he'd been imagining only moments before. 

"What are you doing here?" he roared. 

She bit her lip. "I wanted to take a shower."

"I'm sure you saw I was already in here before you got in!"

"I wanted to take a shower with you," she clarified, putting both of her hands on his arms and raising sparks under his skin as she stroked his muscles. 

He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

She worried her teeth over her bottom lip again. "I'm sorry, Jon. For earlier. I'm grateful for what you're doing for me, I really am."

"So this is you apologizing?" he asked.

She shrugged, offering him a playful tilt of her head. "I guess."

He pulled away. "What the fuck, Sansa? You think you owe me sex now?"

The fingers of her raised hand were curled, as if they were desperately clinging to something she couldn't reach and there was a flash of fear in her eyes. "Wait, no! I shouldn't have said that. That was stupid. I didn't mean... I _am _sorry."

He stared back at her, allowing her to close the distance between them. 

She slung her arms around his neck. "But I'm doing this because I want to. I want you."

_You're an idiot, Snow. Stop this right now, let her down, it's for the best._

As hot water poured down on them, she slanted her mouth over his, kissing him softly and tentatively. He kept still, letting her tangle her fingers through his wet curls.

She pushed herself flush against his chest and moaned against his lips. "Jon."

And then he was pulling her closer, one hand cupping the back of her neck and the other clawing at her lower back, swaying and rutting against her, frantic to have some friction again, as he kissed her back hungrily. 

He reached out to turn off the shower and pressed himself closer, backing her up against the wall behind her.

What the fuck was he doing? He braced his hands on the wall, framing her head with his arms and leaned his forehead against hers.

"We shouldn't," he murmured.

She laughed and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. "We already have, and you said you wanted to do it again."

"Fuck, I do," he groaned.

"So what's the problem then? We both want this."

She took his hands and placed them over her breasts. He cupped and squeezed them, circling her nipples with his thumbs.

"I love your hands on me, Jon," she whimpered.

"Yeah?" he asked, nipping at her lips. "Where do you want them?"

She retaliated by biting down on his lower lip. "All over me!"

He tried to oblige, smoothing his hands over every stretch of skin he could reach, grabbing and kneading her hips and ass and thighs.

"Wait," she said, placing a hand over his chest.

He took a step back and watched as she went to her knees for him, licking her lips as she looked up at him with wide blue eyes. Her face was flushed and her hair was a wet mess, sticking to parts of her skin. It was a lovelier sight than the one he'd imagined. 

She braced one hand on his thigh, taking hold of him with the other, and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. He twitched in her hand, nudging her lips.

"You don't have to," he objected weakly, but she'd already sucked him between her plump, pink lips.

Her mouth was hot and welcoming, and her tongue was everywhere. It was hard to remember why this was a bad idea when she was bobbing up and down on his cock. 

"Sansa," he moaned as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft to lick his balls. 

"Alayne," she reminded him before taking him back in her mouth.

He'd paid it no mind last night, but now it struck him like a blow to the jaw. He blinked slowly and framed her face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over her cheekbones. "Stop, stop," he muttered. "Stop."

She looked up at him with a frown, slowing down but not stopping, and she only released him when his hands tightened in her hair. 

"You- You didn't like it?" she asked, her voice so small he almost regretted making her stop.

He reached for her hand and helped her up, gently catching her chin between his thumb and fingers when she tried to avert her eyes. "I did," he murmured. "Fuck, I did. Too much, way too much."

He tried to ignore his pulsing and aching cock, panting as he tried to put some distance between the two of them. "_Gods, _I told you we shouldn't."

She crossed her arms over her chest, her face a thundercloud. "Why not?"

He couldn't answer her question. "Why Alayne?" he asked her instead.

"I ruined it, didn't I?" she whispered, bottom lip trembling as she hugged herself, nails digging into the skin of her arms.

"What? No." He wanted to go to her, to pull her closer and take her in his arms, but they were still naked and he was still hard for her. "No, Sansa, I..."

_I don't understand you, _he wanted to say. He wanted her, all of her, but there was so much holding him back and he couldn't think, not like this.

"Finish your shower," he told her and turned around to run away again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wanted them to have sex again in this chapter, but Jon couldn't go through with it, and I think that's a good thing :')
> 
> I know things might look bad right now, but we'll get Sansa's POV in the next chapter and we'll see them making some progress!


End file.
